The Fall of Slytherin
by Dramione1402
Summary: What happens when Hermione learns something worthy of trusting Draco? What if all the Slytherins aren't as bad as she thought? What if all Gryffindors aren't as bad as Draco thought? What if the fall of Slytherin isn't that far away?
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks for reading my story (:

This scene is one immediately following Dumbledore's death and the battle that followed. My own version of Harry, Ron, Hermione and Draco's 7th year at Hogwarts. Hope you guys like it!

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**Draco**

_Crack._

Many miles away from the catastrophe that had just taken place at Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry, there lay a dirty river whose over-grown banks were so strewn with rubbish it'd probably give one conjunctivitis if stared at for a long period of time. Not far away, a dusty, sign read in fading letters, 'Spinner's End'. The chilling wind around wasn't needed to send one's hair standing on end; the creepy atmosphere was more than enough for that. There was no living thing – except for weeds - around and anyone there would have gone insane by the deafening silence surrounding this spooky place. The only hint of civilization here was a large, but dilapidated looking house.

It looked quite horrible, and let me tell you, I'd seen a lot of horrible things in the past few hours … or in the past one year, really.

This was where Snape and I had Apparated after the havoc we'd created back at Hogwarts. The _Crack _which our apparition had made now caused a long ringing echo in the midst of the scary silence which made it further scary to hear.

I wondered what we'd have looked like to an outsider: two people who looked scared and in a rush; a fully grown man, wearing black, blood-stained robes, pushing his greasy hair out of his sweaty face with a grubby, shaking hand; and a tall, thin boy in his mid-teens with his tangled, blond hair hid his pale, sweaty and tearful face, yet making no attempt to evade the irritation in his face owing to the fact that he was clutching a large wound in his thigh.

"Draco!" hissed Snape, "Follow me quickly!" he said, hurriedly making his way to the house ahead. "We must not be seen!"

Easy for him to say; _he_ did not have a gash the size of a Bludger in _his_ thigh.

"I'm trying, you _oaf_!" I cried, staggering under the pain of my wound, "But I, unlike you am injured! ... Where are we anyway? ... Don't you dare try to do anything _funny_ to me!"

"There is less time for small talk at the moment, Draco! Just follow me! If you were wise, you would realize what a fickle and unsafe situation this is."

So I'm wounded _and_ stupid, now? Whatever.

Finally, we made our way to the house, and on reaching, Snape drew his wand out of his robes and pointed it directly to the key-hole of the main door which immediately opened with a soft _creak_. Then he roughly steered me in and slammed the door shut.

_OW_.

On getting in, I yelped and yanked my hand right out of his grasp.

"What was that for?" I said angrily.

"For having to save your neck from the Death Eaters" he snarled back.

Alright. Fine. I gave him that. I had chickened out and he'd done the deed, thereby saving me from the Dark Lord's (and his followers') wrath. Still, I, unlike him, am sixteen. _Sixteen_ for the sake of Slytherin, ok? Did anyone honestly expect me to murder Dumbledore? Dumbledore? And it wasn't like Dumbledore was making it any harder. He didn't even try to put up a fight. What the hell? Bloody masochistic withered _fool_. A kick or a punch or a curse would have been so much easier to live with compared to the emotional bull he was giving me.

I calmed down a bit. "Right … er … thanks, I guess." I said to Snape.

"And as for your previous insolence," Snape retorted, "You will not address me as a 'goon', I will heal your wound. We are at my house and this area is called 'Spinner's End'. And no, I am not going to do anything '_funny_' to you."

Whatever. He can't blame me. I just got someone killed. And turned Hogwarts into a living warfare. _All_ the planning and labour that I had done for the past one year had been a _waste_. _And_ I had an injury. I've had my fair share of injuries, but this one hurt like a *BEEP*. Don't say you wouldn't be bitter after that.

"Right." I said apologetically.

Don't laugh. And don't look at me like that, either. Draco Malfoy _does_ know how to apologise. If I see fit, that is.

Snape slowly approached me and traced his wand over my wound, which instantly healed and magically had bandages wound around them, just in case. Snape started towards his back door after this.

My injury felt so much better, I could have gone and given him a gut-wrenching hug. Except, you know, that he was _Snape_, and I had standards to maintain as a Malfoy. Ok, who was I kidding, anyway? The Malfoy name was in dirt, now. And, frankly, I had started to _hate_ it, as of late.

"Where are you going, Professor?" I called, startled by his sudden exit.

"Call me Snape." He said. "Or Severus. Or whatever."

_Whatever_? Now this ought to be good.

"Er … I'm going to send a message to your mother … and the Dark Lord." He continued, "I- I think you better come too."

Any iota of good humour that has been within me vanished and I swore in my head.

His face was _white_. And, feeling the blood drain from my face, I knew I'd gone the same way. I followed nonetheless.

Once we were out into the back porch, I noticed the place properly for the first time; it dark, dreary, bleak, and the grass and flowers were all unkempt, most of the plants were dead and more than half the greenery consisted of weeds. Like I said, _horrible_.

Snape raised his wand, closed his eyes and made an expression like he was concentrating hard on something. His face suddenly broke into a wide grin (Let me tell you that this was not the most pleasant of visions). He muttered something and a silvery, glowing, transparent panther issued from the wand, and then went soaring across the sky. He then repeated the same procedure, and soon we saw another Patronus streaking across the night sky.

When Snape turned, he saw me surveying him with what was probably a strange expression.

Well, you can't blame me. I'd just seen Snape (SNAPE) smile. I'd seen kindness on his face. And, however disconcerting that had been, it struck me for the first time that Snape was, well, _human_. Also, most of Slytherin, or maybe even the student body of Hogwarts, had made bets about Snape's Patronus being something slimy and disgusting, like a snake or a lizard. Or a newt. Or maybe a spider. But a panther was as normal as Patronuses went.

"Are you staring at me because of some sort of a fault in my face or under mere whim?" Snape asked irritated.

Ha! He wishes I stare at him because of a 'whim'. A lot of girls at school do. Some guys, too, but that's a whole other story.

"Oh!" I jumped having suddenly realised what I'd been doing. "Er… well … I thought I just saw … never mind."

"Next time, either justify yourself or keep your imagination to yourself." he said steering me back into the house.

Ok, what was with him being so … _touchy_ all the time? I can steer myself into the house, thanks very much. And why in the name of Slytherin's teeth did he have to be so grouchy all the time? Granted, he'd just killed a man. And communicated with the Dark Lord. And escaped a battle. Ok, whatever. I'm just saying. Maybe he needs a girlfriend.

Did I just think that?

Er, _YUCK_. What woman would want Snape? Gag.

On getting in, I asked Snape what he'd told them via his Patronuses.

"The first Patronus," Snape replied, "Will tell your mother that you are safe with me over here, and not to come. And if Ministry officials or members of the Order call upon her, she will pretend she does not know your whereabouts and she'll be worried that you are missing."

"Ah. And the second one?" I asked delicately.

"That one was to the Dark Lord explaining that I had done the job, and why. I also ensured him of my return to the circle as soon as possible. I said that I couldn't promise anything because Floo, Portkey, and Apparition networks are obviously under strict monitoring, and there is a high probability of owls being intercepted."

_Oh_. So _that_ was why he'd used Patronus.

" … I think you ought to rest now, you must be tired. Or do you want to eat something first?"

But his voice was coming from very far away. I was probably half asleep already.

Oh, God, my life _sucks_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Draco**

The days passed slowly. _Very_ slowly. I worked out to pass the time, along with drawing stupid cartoons on scraps of paper and animating them. Some of them featured Potter and Co. getting beaten up by the Mighty Me. Some of them featured the Dark Lord getting sliced into tiny pieces by the Mighty Me. Most of them featured the Dark Lord getting killed by Potter in various ways (Hey, even I can't deny the truth). At one point I got so bored, I even drew up one of Snape dancing with some fair-skinned, flaming-haired beauty.

Sometimes I got so fed up, I wanted to grab my wand and go and kill the bloody Dark sadistic bastard myself. He had no right to capture my parents in their own house and effing imprison them there. He didn't have the right to make me commit murders. He didn't have the right to break apart my family – and the families of so many other people – like this. Potter had better get on it. Or I'd do something drastic. Except, you know, that I can't. Because he's got my parents.

Snape and I avoided as much as communication as possible, only acknowledging each other with a nod or "Good morning" or "Good night". Talk about awkward. Still, what did we have to say to one another, anyway?

Two weeks after our arrival at Spinner's End, Snape went to join the Dark Lord.

Wait. Why should I call him the Dark Lord anyway? That's what people like Aunt Bella call him, and let me tell you, Aunt Bella is most probably an Acromantula in the body of a semi-human. Or she's had her brain dunked several times in Evil Potion or Essence of Helpless, Deranged Insanity. Possibilities. Anyway, I was thinking of a name for the Dark Lord. Why should I call him 'Lord' anyway? It's not like he's done anything particularly Lord-worthy. Oh, the Dark Fuckwit. Or maybe the Sadistic Bastard. Maybe I can alternate between those two. This is so satisfying.

As I was saying, two weeks after we got to Spinner's End, Snape went to join the Dark Fuckwit. And returned a few hours later with my mother. Happy as I was to see her, her frightening demonstrations of love and sadness and emotion left me a bit, well, frightened.

After calming her down, Snape told me that Voldemort had pardoned me since Dumbledore had been killed either way, and that I'd would be staying at Spinner's End for the time being, or, at least until the end of the summer. Snape was the secret keeper of his house and way too many people knew about the Malfoy Manor (smirk) so I wouldn't be as safe there as I'd be here.

I asked Snape what I'd do after the end of the end of the summer, and he said that the Sadistic Bastard had some sort of a plan for me. I swear, if it was another murder, I'd kill myself and take down as many of the Dark Fuckwit Force (ie, Death Eaters) as I could.

Ah, well, back to the drawing board. Literally. I made my way up to the room Snape had given me soon after Mother left. I had a whole lot of new deaths to draw up.

Snape entered my room one day, and so suddenly, too, that I fell out out my chair and all my papers went flying around. Snape flicked his wand and magicked them all back into a pile at the small desk that I was sitting at.

"Draco, may I speak with you?" he asked.

"Sure thing. Sit down." I motioned my desk chair and plopped down on my bed myself. Thankfully he wasn't noticing any of the drawings.

He sat.

"Now listen to what I have to say." He began, "You might not understand, but you must trust me and answer my questions."

No _How are you, Draco?_ or _Is this place treating you well?_ Snape was never going to change. I wonder what he wants to say so badly. Talk about abrupt.

"Er, ok." Was my articulate reply.

He took a deep breath.

"Draco, do you have any sympathy with the Dark Lord's aims?"

My veins froze. What? This was what he wanted to ask? Was this some sort of a plot to get me to confess my hatred for the Dark Fuckwit? Did they know? Oh, man, I'd have to burn all those animated drawings! Now!

I reacted in the only way my self-defense mechanism permitted me to.

"Excuse me? What are you trying to do? Turn me against him? … Or – or are you trying to steal my glory _again_?"

"Draco, don't act like a child." Snape snapped back. "I am in no mood for games. Trust me. I, or anyone else, will not hurt you."

He knew. Damn it, I had forgotten to shut my mind. He'd have seen everything. Whatever. I didn't even care anymore. I didn't care if I was killed for confessing that I despised that Sadistic Bastard. That's how sick of my life I was already.

"Er …"

"Yes?"

"No. I don't sympathise."

"Very good. That wasn't so hard, now, was it? Now. Do you feel any remorse for what you did at Hogwarts in June?"

Really? He was going _there_? _Now_? So he was blaming me. No one saw that this was all because of the Dark Fuckwit, did they? It was only going to be Malfoy and Snape, right? Way to console me, Snape.

I sighed. What else was there for it, now?

"Of course, I do! But what's the point of bringing this up now? It's not like I can change what's done ..."

My voice cracked. Oh, no. Don't you _dare_ start crying in front of Snape, Drake! You're more than that.

"And would you," Snape said, ignoring my temporary lapse in control, "Ever want to escape the Dark Side?"

W-_what?_ My head was spinning. Was this really _Snape_? And was he really offering me a chance to escape? How? And _why?_

"W-what?" I said in a scared whisper after what seemed like five whole minutes.

"Answer me, Draco." Came the steady reply, "Trust me."

And for a moment, I could. Because for that one moment I saw a never-before-seen warmth in his eyes that immediately loosened my tongue.

"Yes!" I breathed frantically. Of course I wanted to escape. Even if it took me all my strength and the need to dance in front of all of Hogwarts wearing the Hawaiian Hula costume. "Yes, I would!"

"Very good." Snape repeated.

It felt good. Like a breath of fresh air. Maybe I should tell the truth more often. Honestly, I'd had enough of lies and conspiracies to last me ten lifetimes.

But seriously. Was this really the Sadistic Bastard's most trusted servant? _Plotting_ against him? _How_?

"We both know that you are not evil, Draco." He continued. "I am glad that you have told me the truth. If your life had taken another path, I would have been held responsible ..."

His words trailed away, but a million questions exploded in my head. He'd be held responsible? Why was Snape so ... so ... so _nice_ all of a sudden? Was he really going to help me? How? Why?

"You'll be held responsible? By whom?" I asked.

"Now is not the time for questions, Draco," came the reply, "But for answers. We both have stories to tell. Let me hear yours first, from the very beginning. We have got to prove your innocence."

Er, _WOW_.

So I began.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Alright, so this Chapter is a wee bit like The Dursleys Departing from HPDH but i had to put it in to give the story some continuity and because ... well, you'll find out xD

Happy reading (:

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**Harry**

"BOY!"

Sixteen years. I had been living with them for _sixteen _long and miserable years. Yet, they insist on treating me like some sort of a contaminated mandrake plant. One would have thought, that after all this time the Dursleys would finally have accepted me as part of their family. No such luck. I wouldn't even call it luck to be part of the Dursley family. I'd call it _bad luck_. It was probably my good fortune that even after all these years the Dursleys could not get around to addressing me by my name.

But we were parting our ways now. I pulled myself away from saying or doing anything that would let either themselves or myself bear any ill will. After all, they were my only family. I'm sure my Mum, if not my Dad, would want me to behave - for the last time.

"Yes, Uncle Vernon?" I called.

Pause. They were probably shocked at my lack of rudeness. I should have tried this ages ago.

"Get your lazy bum down here, now!"

Or maybe not.

I left my room, got down the stairs and met the sight of the Dursleys and what appeared to be most of their belongings in a number of trunks. So they were packed.

"Yes?" I asked.

"I still can't see why _we _have got to leave." Uncle Vernon said. "You're gone. Isn't that what they're after? _You?_"

Uncle Vernon's bluntness, rudeness, and stupidity are so unique, I think his brain should be put on display in a museum somewhere after his body expires.

"I've explained this a _million _times, ok? Voldemort and his followers can come after you lot and torture you for information about me. They'll probably do this to all the other people who i've been in contact with for the past year or something."

Uncle Vernon groaned.

"But how the hell would we know your whereabouts? And why the hell would we _care_ to know them?" he said.

I couldn't believe he was making me say this.

"Because you are my family." I said, looking at my feet. "My only remaining family."

I could feel all the three pairs of eyes in the living room on me.

"In a manner of speaking." Uncle Vernon grunted.

"_I_ know that. _You_ know that. But _they_ don't know that. And I doubt they'll wait around for an explaination. They can kill you. They killed my parents and countless other members of the Order. And that's if you're lucky. You don't know what they do to people they keep alive. You don't know how they torture people. Remember the collapse of the Brockdale bridge last year? That was them. They don't care about blasting anyone out of their way."

"Th- the Brockdale bridge was them?" Aunt Petunia gasped.

"Yes." Finally someone was getting the message. "And they can do worse, mind you."

"But what I don't get, is why we have to take protection from your stupid canary cult and not your ministry." Uncle Vernon huffed.

Maybe I should just finish him off myself. Canary Cult? Wait till I told the Order.

"Because," I replied resigned, "The ministry hates me and my friends and any of my allies, now. I doubt they'd harbour you at all if they knew who you were related to - which they do."

"I knew this boy'd be a nuisance." Uncle Vernon wailed, "Bet you went and destroyed their bloody headquarters, boy."

I snorted. If only he knew.

"No, they loved me when I destroyed it. They just began to hate me when I refused to be used as their new poster boy."

Again, they all looked at me funny. I didn't even blame them this time.

"And what of this house?" Uncle Vernon asked, motioning around with his head.

Typical Uncle Vernon. He _would_ be worried about a house when lives were at stake.

"It'll still be yours, and hopefully still standing when you get back here."

"Which will be when?"

"It could be a year or ten years. I don't know. This is war, Uncle Vernon, and no one can tell when it will get over."

"War?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, war."

"And what are you, the General of sorts?" he guffawed.

Huh. I guess I had never thought of it that way. General. Like the leader. Wow. The fate of the whole world rest on your shoulders, Harry, but no pressure.

"I suppose I am." I shrugged.

That shut him up.

And again, Uncle Vernon opened his mouth like he wanted to argue some more, but Aunt Petunia put a hand on his shoulder and gave him a meaningful glance.

I never thought I'd say this, but, thank you, Aunt Petunia.

We sat there in awkward silence until we the distinct sound of our doorbell.

Yes!

I ran and opened it. Oh, the joy of seeing other wizards, and, more importantly, people who could actually stand to be in my presence. This had been one long month.

"Lupin, Tonks." I said, grinning from ear to ear, probably looking like a complete idiot.

"Harry!" Tonks' shrill cry must have given the Dursleys a heart attack back in the living room. And she pulled me into a blood-circulation-cutting-off hug. I could see that being married hadn't killed the fun in her.

"Tonks -" I gasped. "Can't - breath -"

"Oh, sorry."

"How are you, Harry?" Lupin asked me.

"Same as ever, Lupin. Congrats, by the way. Did you get my gift, Tonks?"

"Yes, Harry! I t was beautiful, thank you." came the reply. "How did you find it? I can't imagine you having picked out that necklace all by your self."

Ah, there went my pretense. Tonks was way too smart for my own good. I grinned sheepishly.

"Hermione and Ginny sent me a catalog with their suggestions, and I ordered the one I liked best." I said, "I wish I could have attended the ceremony, though."

"It wasn't that amazing, really, Harry. Just a few people. If you want to see something better, I suggest you attend Bill and Fleur's wedding the coming fortnight." Tonks said. Although, I did catch her winking at Lupin. They were just trying to make me feel better.

It wasn't fair. Lupin and Tonks were probably surrounded by their near and dear ones that day, and I had been the only one missing. Darn Dumbledore and his crazy requests.

I immediately stopped thinking about Dumbledore because the thought of him put a scary hole in the pit of my stomach. How am I supposed to do this? Alone? I had to, of course. I wouldn't put any more lives at stake. But some advice from a mentor figure would have been appreciated.

Oh, damn: the Dursleys!

"Would you both like to come in for, er, water or anything?" I asked Lupin and Tonks, suddenly realising the reason for which they were here.

"I'm afraid not, Harry." Lupin replied. "Just call them out. We've got to get going."

"Of course." and turning to the living rom, I called, "Uncle Vernon, Aunt Petunia! They're ready for you!"

I went in to help them with the luggage. It was pretty easy; Lupin levitated most of the bags and things into the big van they had, most probably, rented.

"That's it, eh?" Uncle Vernon sneered. "It's just two people who come to our rescue, when you get a whole bloody army behind you, Potter?"

Somethings never changed.

"You might think so," I said. "But Lupin and Tonks are two of the best Aurors - that is to say Dark Wizard Catchers - we know. They can't touch you."

And what do I get for saving their sorry arses? A grunt in response, that's what.

Aunt Petunia made her way out to dump her shawl and carry-on handbags into the front of the minivan.

"Hi, Petu - er, Mrs, Dursley! Erm, how do you do?" Lupin said nervously.

Hang on. Is there something I was missing here? I looked around expectantly. No one apart from Lupin, Aunt Petunia and myself seemed to have noticed Lupin's slip. So I let it pass, and went inside to check on my belongings.

"Why are you doing this, Harry?" said a gentle voice from behind me.

"Wha-?" I said spinning around to face her. "A-Aunt Petunia? What do mean?"

"Why are you doing all this for us?"

Wait. I was being appreciated? After all this time? By Aunt Petunia? Now I've seen everything. She was looking at me in the strangest way, too. I deliberated on her question, and decided to answer truthfully.

"Because you are my family." I repeated. "And because this is what my Mum would have wanted."

There was a pregnant pause.

"Dudders," Aunt Petunia said.

I noticed Dudley there for the first time. He'd been sitting with his fat bottom stuffed in the most comfortable of armchairs but hadn't utered a syllable. Now, at the sound of his mother addressing him, he jumped.

"Dudders, go out into the van. I'll finish double checking here and be there in moment."

"Yes, Mum." he agreed, then turning to me he said, "Harry ..."

Oh, God. Why me? Why now? Dudley was at a loss for words. Emotionally.

"Bye, Dudley." I cut in.

"Bye, Harry. You take care." he said and mumbled something. I think I caught the word 'miss' in his mutters. He turned and made towards the front door.

I was touched.

"Me, too." I found myself saying.

He turned for a fraction of a second and smiled. And then he was gone.

And now Aunt Petunia was looking at me ... Were her eyes watering? Shoot me.

She came closer to me and put her hands on my shoulders. I was taller than her and now she was cowering before me.

"I'm sorry for all the years, Harry." she said abruptly, before I could get anything out. "But I did love her very much."

What? Who? Who did she love?

"Aunt Petunia, who- ?

"Your mother." she sniffed. Her voice was cracking. I had never seen her so upset. Ever. Even that night Dudley had gotten attacked by those dementors.

"Lily was my sister, Harry." she sobbed. "My best friend, if there ever was one. Promise me you won't let her and Potter have died in vain. Do us proud, Harry. D-defeat him and-and come back to me. And I promise to tell you e-everything; the truth and nothing less. This must a lot for you to digest so suddenly, Harry, but would please place your faith in me? Don't go asking anyone anything Harry ..."

OK, WHAT? Dudley was one thing, but Aunt Petunia? What was she talking about? That her hatred for my mother had been a pretense all along? That there was more to their history that she'd ever let on? That, after all these years, she had actually managed to care for me? I had been planning on asking someone, of course, like Lupin or Mr. Weasley. But she looked like she was serious, and, strangely, I took her seriously.

"... Please, Harry," she was sobbing, "Don't tell anyone what I just said, ok? Please. I'll give you all the answers. D-don't ask R-Remus or McGonagall or your friends, ok?"

Honestly, she sounded a bit deranged. But she sounded so desperate, I just had to agree.

"Remus?" I almost squeaked. "You know Lupin? And McGonagall? How?"

"I promised you the answers, Harry. Just do your job. And don't d-die, and I'll tell you whatever you want to know."

So now she knew I had a 'job', which most probably involved grave mortal peril. This just keeps getting better and better.

"Alright. Alright, Aunt Petunia." I said, awkwardly trying to pat her back. Sort of. "I won't say a word." I assured her.

Her face broke into a watery smile.

"Thank you, Harry." she said, and, quite suddenly, pulled me into a tight hug. It wasn't bone-crushing like the ones Hagrid or Hermione gave me. It was gentle, yet protective and fierce. If I knew any better, I'd have said it was a loving, motherly embrace. With a _pang_, I realised that this was probably what a mother's hug felt like, and this was the closest thing to a mother's love that I'd get. I'd dreamed of what it'd be like to embrace my own mother, but I never thought that it'd be Aunt Petunia who'd finally give that feeling of being, well, loved and wanted and protected. Someone who made me feel like all the tough decisions were not all mine to make and to bear. Someone who I could go complaining or crying to if I were a kid. This was even better than Sirius. This hug made me feel so nice, I thought I'd be able face Voldemort a hundred times, no problem.

I hugged her back for all that I was worth. Maybe this was what it was like to have hugged my own mother; they were sisters, after all. It was wonderful - like we were both trying to say something to each other. Things words couldn't describe.

"I love you, Harry," she said, pulling away, "And so did your mother and your father and your godfather. And I'm sure that there are many others, too. You're a wonderful child.

"And you're right: we are family. We stay together, no matter what. I'll always wait for you, Harry. I'll never give up.

"I know it's unfair -"

"Petunia! Boy!" Uncle Vernon's voice rang from outside. "We've been waiting here forever! Come on, we've got to leave quickly!"

"C-coming Vernon!" Aunt Petunia called back over her shoulder. "We're just doing a last-minute check up here!"

"Listen!" she whispered urgently, turning back to me, "I know it's unfair that all of us grown-ups have taken the back seat and allowed you to take all the grown up decisions for a almost a decade. But Dumbledore thought it was necessary and maybe it's for the best. I know you're ready to face anything now, Harry. You're her son. You can do anything if you want to. I believe in you, you hear me? I know you'll win this. And if your ever stuck, find out and give me a call. You can never ask a family for too much. And I owe it to you. Wherever. Whenever. I'll be there for you, Harry."

What could I say? I nodded dumbly while she gave me another hug and ran out the door.

What the bloody hell was that? Aunt Petunia? Aunt Petunia? She'd said she'd loved me and my mother. She said she'd loved me like a parent. She'd said ... all those wonderful things. About family and faith and love. Why? Why now? Why after sixteen years?

And she knew about Sirius and Dumbledore and ... well, more than I ever gave jer credit for. I ran up to my room. I wish I could have kept running. Instead I slammed the door shut and felt my legs give away.

Whatever had just happened had been too much for words to describe. It was like my shock tolerance level would be tested again and again and again. What was next? That Dumbledore was gay and never bothered to tell anyone? Great God.

For the first time in my life, I broke down and started sobbing. I had never felt so close to anyone before. A mother and child's relationship was marvelous - so much could be said without saying anything at all. Dudley was one lucky bloke, and as undeserving as he was, I'd never have what he did - what had just embraced me in the Dursley's now desrted living room. A mother. And all that she entailed.

A knock on my door. I wiped my eyes dry and opened it. Tonks.

"Harry, are you ready?" she asked. "I've got to apparate you to The Burrow and then get back here to escort your family to their safe house. And, er, your Uncle's getting a bit ... sqeamish."

I smiled inspite of myself.

"Sure, I'm ready." I replied, and went to draw open the blinds on my window. There they were: Uncle Vernon, angry and imaptient, Dudley, scared ... And Aunt Petunia, stone-faced.

How had she known all that? And, more importantly, what had led to the sudden change of personality? Was she not so evil after all? And what was her connection with Lupin and McGonagall? Was she a witch? No - proposterous. Aunt Petunia could be a lot of things, but she couldn't be a witch. Maybe she had cared about Mum and me all along and thus corresponded with her sister's only correspondable friend, Lupin. Or perhaps Mum's teachers - Dumbledore or McGonagall.

I knew, that whatever was the case, I would never repeat the events of this evening to anyone; I wanted to keep it all to myself, it was personal. I also knew, thay come what may, that I'd return to see them - her - at the end; either before it was too late, or after I had (hopefully) done my duty. I had to.

It had been a surpring of events that day, I thought, as Tonks steered me towards my luggage and I held on to it all, enough to leave me disorientated for days. And if this was the start of my journey, I was not very fervent about what was to come.

I felt Tonks' hand grab my right shoulder and saw her other hand grab some of my other belongings. Then she turned on the spot, and we were engulfed in momentary suffocating, blissful blackness. How I wish I could have stayed there forever.

* * *

A/N: Don't look at me like that! If people like Snape and Kreacher can turn out to be nice, then so can Aunt Petunia. And anyway, no one ever talks about what Harry is going through as an orphan. Makes you appreciate things, right? xD


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry, for the ginormic delay guys! I kind of got into Law School, and it is one tough cookie :\

Anywho, Enjoy ~

**Harry**

"So, do you think we're going to be able to drop out of Hogwarts?" Hermione asked.

Honestly, I had no idea. Why on earth did everyone always look up to me for the answers? I wasn't Dumbledore for heaven's sake.

It had been three weeks since I had arrived at The Burrow. I had turned seventeen three weeks ago (finally). And Bill and Fleur had been married for two. No big event there. With the wizarding community in so much terror and chaos, it was a wonder all those two hundred plus people had turned up there. But the French are partiers, so the tremendous turnout from Fleur's side of the family wasn't even that surprising.

Now, the three of us - Ron, Hermione and I - were sitting in Ron's room, planning the hunt for the Horcruxes, with a copy of the Daily Prophet sitting in front of us. 'Ministry of Magic deems attendance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for all children of school going age mandatory.' read the front page headline.

I looked up at Hermione who was eyeing me and Ron anxiously.

"Obviously we can't. It'll be against the law." I replied, "And we can't afford any more tiffs with the ministry. Not now."

"But how are we gonna search for and destroy the Horcruxes, Harry?" Ron said, "The ministry isn't gonna let us leave the school at all. That's the aim of the decree, innit? To keep all young witches and wizards under constant vigilance and protection, right?"

We smiled at each other because of Ron's choice of words: constant vigilance. Mad Eye Moody. Fourth year Defense class. Good times. Good times.

Mad Eye Moody aside, Ron had point. But I wasn't giving up that easily.

"We could find a loophole." I replied, "I mean, the Horcruxes aren't going to destroy themselves, are they? It's all up to us. So we've got to do this by hook or by crook. I'm sure McGonagall will understand if we explain."

Did it even matter, really? What was the point? Didn't everyone attend Hogwarts? I didn't know anyone who didn't.

"Of course you don't, Harry." Hermione said when I voiced this out, "You barely know anyone who doesn't have connection to Hogwarts and the Order. I've read in _The Appraisal of Magical Education in Europe_ that quite a few young witches and wizards are home-schooled, or sent to study abroad. Although, that's a rarity, and home-schooled children are so rich, they're practically _royal_."

"Oh." was my articulate response. "So ... Did you find out how to destroy the Horcruxes?"

"Yes, actually," Hermione replied with a playful smile, "You know that Wizarding Wireless Fred and George bought just a while ago? I asked them if could use it for research and stuff and they let me, obviously. So, I searched for information about Horcruxes and, _Oh, God_, you two!"

"_What_?" Ron and I chorused.

"The things I found out!" she almost squealed, "They were disgusting. The transformation, the process, and the whole ... mechanics of it all. Gruesome. Voldemort really has no heart. To be able to do all that, especially to _oneself_ ... It'd be just so ... horrendous."

Good to know what we were up against. The bloke wasn't scared of maiming even himself. Now, if that isn't sick, evil, foul, twisted and grotesque, then I don't know what is. Voldemort was an effing masochist. Ugh.

"So how d'you destroy them, then?" Ron asked.

"A Horcrux ..." Hermione began ...

And soon we were off discussing how to destroy them, where to search and what to search for. Hermione gave us a bit of interesting information about Ravenclaw's White-Gold Quill which had been rumoured to have been locked up somewhere in Albania. It all added up, course. Along the way, I had another stroke of inspiration concerning RAB ...

"Hermione, why don't you look up people with surnames starting with B, and then check if those people had first names starting with R and also had fathers with a first name beginning with A!"

She clapped her hand to her mouth.

"Of Course!" she screamed, "Why didn't I think of that? The A could have been the _father's_ name, not necessarily a second name or an alias ... Oh, Harry, we might actually be on to something!"

She was so happy, it could have made my day, if I wasn't scared about the fact that she was probably going to explode, that is.

In the end, we concluded that it would be feasible to return to Hogwarts. There was plenty of scope for research there, and Voldemort had spent seven years of his life there - we were bound to find something. Plus, it was probably the safest place to operate, not to mention the spot where all interesting stuff concerning the order might be going on. We might have even gotten farther I it weren't for -

"Er ... McGonagall's arrived in the kitchen," said Ginny's head poking her head through Ron's bedroom door, "She wants to see you lot, pronto."

I wonder how her hair's always dancing like that. Ginny's, not McGonagall's. And how is it that every time she enters a room, it feels like the sunshine's entered, too. And that flowery scent! It's like I'm the most lush garden with open air and have not a care in the world -

"Er, hello? Earth to Harry." Ron was waving his hands in front of me.

So obviously I had to squash my amazing Ginny-filled daydreams, otherwise Ron would suspect something and ram his fist right through my brain.

Still, though. WHAT THE HELL.

It was Voldemort. All Voldemort. It was him, because of whom my life was shattered. Him, because of whom I had no parents. Him, because of whom I wasn't able to sustain a God damned relationship! I swear, if I ever face him, I'll slice him with a meat cleaver, and then tear him into small bits, then fry the pieces in boiling crude oil. Then I'd burn them and flush the ashes down in a public toilet somewhere in the shadiest corner of Knockturn Alley!

Ok. That was a tad too deranged. But I kind of hate him. A lot. More than words or any horrific images can describe, actually. And for good reason.

But now wasn't the time to wallow in a pit of self pity. I had a world to save from sure destruction and undignified death. Yuck, that sounded so dramatic. Well, yuck or not, McGonagall calls.

We finally got around to dragging ourselves down to the kitchen, and, upon seeing McGonagall's face, wished we'd been abducted by the ghoul living in the attic. At least, I did.

I had never seen her so solemn before. Alright, I did when Dumbledore had died, but that doesn't count. Even I cried, and look at what I've been through all my life without shedding a single tear. But, it was just that look on her face; something bad had happened. I was praying with every atom in my body to whatever twisted Force that was doing all this, praying that no one else had died. This is just proof of how bad a mood God (or whatever else) was in the day I was born. I can't live through simply one good day, can I? No, really, it's like an unwritten _law_.

"Oh, good, you're here." She semi-snapped.

That was it? No 'How are you?' or 'How's fighting a war single-handedly working out for you, Harry?'

I'd hate to be all arrogant, but, hello! I'm saving the world from Voldemort, here. I mean, I don't want any media coverage or gifts and money or female attention or anything. Acknowledgement and appreciation once in a while would be nice. How would you like it if someone treated you like a house-elf and only spoke to you to ask you twenty-questions about a mission they weren't supposed to know about?

"Well, what I've come here for is … it's to tell you about Dumbledore's Final Will and Testament. His portrait showed us where to find it." She continued.

Oh, so that was probably why she was being so curt. She'd have been devastated by Dumbledore's death, obviously. And to see his portrait, sit in his office, do his duties and answer all those press reporters immediately after his death must be a lot to go through at once.

But what did Dumbledore's Will have to do with _us_?

"Professor – " I began, but she cut me off.

"Potter, Dumbledore has left you his Pensive and a few bottles containing memories with it. The ministry is, and frankly, even I am, concerned as to whether we should be shown what these are. Only you are authorized to access them. He has also stated that he has left you a mission, and that you may accept or decline as you wish. No one is to stop you from declining and no one is to interfere if you accept. No one, that is, except Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger here. I believe all of you are aware of all of this?"

"Yes." We all replied in unison.

"And I take it you accept?"

"Yes." We said again, together.

Oh, God. This was it. This was the moment she was going to ... _say it_. McGonagall was going to ask, or rather force, us to accept help from her or the order. And for the fiftieth time, I'd have to reject her offer. Why? _Why?_ I am a normal, seventeen year old boy, alright? And, accepted, I have the ego of a normal seventeen year old boy, but there's only so much guts I've got. There only so much self-respect and self-restraint I've got. You just cannot keep effing refusing when people keep offering to help you with a task that is highly tedious, time-consuming, risky, dangerous, and even fatal. I really don't have it in me to tell anyone that I will NOT let them assist me in conspiring to kill Voldemort anymore. I _might_ just have broken my promise to Dumbledore and accepted. So I said the first stupid thing that came into my head. And it was, if anything, clear proof of just _how much_ I wasn't ready to refuse any help I was being offered.

"Then I think – " McGonagall began.

"Wait, Professor!" I interjected.

"Yes, Potter?"

Poor McGonagall, she probably thought I was going to be all forthcoming and ask her for help myself. I'm weak when it comes to this, but not that weak.

"We, er, wanted to, er, ask you if, erm, if we could occasionally visit your study to speak to Professor Dumbledore's portrait. For the mission, you know. That is, if you don't mind?"

Seriously. That's how badly I wanted to avoid The Question. So much so, that I'd resort to asking utterly lame, baseless, ridiculous questions just so I didn't have to answer That Question.

"Of course, Potter. You may. Which brings me to what I was saying – "

I made big eyes and sent strong _Help Me!_ vibes at Hermione. She was the only one who could save me. For now.

"Sorry, Professor – " Hermione cut in.

Oh, bless her soul. I love you, Hermione! I breathed a sigh of (temporary) relief. Worse come to worst, I'd have to Imperius Ron to start doing the can-can or impersonating Justin Bieber to avoid The Question. Alright, that last sentence just made sound like some commitment-phobic guy under the pressure of a girlfriend. I think I'm finally losing it.

"Yes, Granger?" McGonagall said.

"Professor, we also, er, wanted to ask you, erm, if we could – if we could leave the castle from time to time to, erm, to carry out our mission." She finished in a rather small voice.

Bravo, Hermione. No, really. Something like that would have taken a lot of guts, especially coming from an academician-pleaser like Hermione. Wow. I made a mental note to give her a gut-wrenching hug for this.

McGonagall blinked once. Twice.

"Miss Granger!" she finally burst out, "I never expected you – of all people – to ask me such an utterly unreasonable question! Really! Leaving the school as and when you please? What preposterous rubbish! I realise that we have been fairly liberal when it comes to you three, but I will not stand for this blatant show of ridiculousness anymore!"

And she went on and on lecturing poor Hermione. I wanted to interject – it wasn't even her fault! And then it hit me. Like a wrecking ball. I realised (finally) I had always – even in instances as little as these – let my family and friends take the heat. Look at it – my parents, Sirius, Lupin, Dumbledore, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, the Weasleys, the Grangers, Neville, Luna, Hogwarts and probably more people. This had to stop – I couldn't hide behind everyone like this. It was ... sick, unfair.

"But Professor!" I cut in, bordering on yelling, "It's for the mission! To bring Voldemort down! Unless, you don't want that?"

"How dare you suggest something such as that, Potter?" she growled, nostrils flaring, "Your protection is of the utmost importance to us! Whatever I say is for your own good! And you ask me to permit you to leave the castle alone? In these times? I won't hear of it! And I still fail to understand why you cannot pursue the help of someone more experienced who can guide you through this so-called 'mission' of yours?"

There, she said it. But I was ready. I was done dragging people into the pathway of my death and misery to shield myself. I sighed. I hoped she wouldn't think less of me for saying this – it wasn't like I was rubbing anything in her face. I just – I just wanted her to leave us alone, dammit!

"Professor," I replied, "Obviously Professor Dumbledore didn't think so. You've got to understand! We won't be hurt, we'll take care, to the best of our abilities. There's a reason as to why you can't know about the mission. But you've got to trust us! This mission was assigned to us, and it's going to stay that way. I'm sorry."

"Alright, then." She said with a calm face, but I knew she was boiling inside, "May I know what this 'reason' is?"

"We're sorry, Professor, but if Dumbledore's not mentioned it to you, then I don't think it's our place to do that, either. All I can say is ... well, he never asked you to protect us, did he?"

Oh, God. I was going to be so screwed for these nasty comments when I'd returned to Hogwarts.

To my _immense_ (you have NO idea how immense) relief, McGonagall let out a resigned sort of a sigh and said "Oh, alright. I would really hate not to know, especially considering the risk placed upon your lives, but it does sound like the sort of crazy thing Dumbledore would have done. Keeping secrets, telling the right person the right things ... all that. Now, any more arguments?"

We grinned sheepishly.

"No, please continue, Professor." Hermione said.

"Now, what I am going to say is going to be a very big shock for the three of you, as it was for the Order and the staff and Ministry."

No, no, _NO_! Why can there never be good news? Ever? Why is my luck so _royally_ screwed up?

"It is that," McGonagall was continuing, "Dumbledore has specifically mentioned in his Will that Draco Malfoy is completely innocent and has requested the Ministry to nullify any criminal record that the Ministry or the Order may have created, and that there is no requirement or harm or punish him in any manner ... "

You know, sometimes, I feel that totalling Dumbledore's office at the end of my fifth year was _completely_ and _absolutely_ justified. He was just too easy on people. Him, with his bloody see-the-best-in-everyone bullshit. This was Malfoy. _Malfoy_. The person who was conspiring to get him killed, for a _year_. Granted, it was on Voldemort's orders and that he was blackmailing Malfoy, but ... it was still _Malfoy_. He didn't deserve to be forgiven.

" ... And as applies the law in most of the world, as well as Britain, Dumbledore has 'Released' young Mr. Malfoy from any criminal liability that he would have faced. I know that this is a bit much to take in. I don't know why Dumbledore has let him escape so easily, but, according to the law, Malfoy is a free and innocent person now. And, er, well ... "

She looked at us reluctantly, and the three of us were staring back at her in return. What was so horrible that even McGonagall didn't want to say it?

" ... The very same," she went on delicately, "Has been stated about Severus Snape."

I was so trashing Dumbledore's portrait. Wait, brain, get a hold of yourself. This was no time for getting immature and vengeful.

"But _how_?" I said, anguished, and yes, a BIT frustrated, "How could Dumbledore have written that? It's as if he _knew_ Snape and Malfoy were going to be blamed. Knew that Snape would end up – you know. Typical Dumbledore! Giving everyone, even his own murderer, unlimited chances! That's not a really big shock, for me – I'm just – "

I sighed in a resigned manner and stared off into the void.

McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Well, inspite of Albus being Albus, we also _did_ want to cross-check the, er, authenticity of the Will. We used all kinds of spells to detect forgery and tampering, but it came out all clear, and Dumbledore's portrait also testified it."

Oh, I was _definitely_ trashing the portrait.

"Believe me, you three," she continued, "We _were_ shocked, especially after the reading the section in the Will that said that Draco Malfoy is, in the eyes of Dumbledore, the only worthy candidate for the post of this year's Hogwarts Headboy."

Would it be too rude to say _Holy Fuck_?


	5. Chapter 5

**Hermione**

"This is madness! Insanity! What .. ?" Ron was yelling quite furiously.

On any other occasion, this display of his would have gotten me reeling. Now, however, the yelling that was coursing out of Ron's mouth was exactly what was spinning in my own head. _Malfoy_? _Head Boy_? _Malfoy _Head Boy?

This was definitely some sort of magical deception nonsense done by Voldemort. This wasn't happening. This wasn't possible. I'd probably wake up tomorrow morning and find out that this whole thing was one huge Hor-mione filled nightmare. I'd still be eleven and that there'd be no magic or muggles. Or Voldemort. Except that, obviously, it wouldn't. Nevertheless, I dug my fingernails really hard into the palms of my hands to make sure. No such luck. Yes, that's how far gone I was. Not that I hated Ron or Harry or any of my wizard friends - quite the contrary. Magic had given me a purpose: SPEW, and just a whole new dimension of things to learn. Still, it would be nice to be able to escape once in a while. Not to be expected to give answers all the time. Not to _want _to give answers all the time. How do Americans say it? Chill.

That would be very welcome.

But, like Dumbledore used to say, _Alas_.

"Are you quite, _quite_ sure, Professor?" I asked delicately.

She gave me this grim, serious look which only McGonagall could have been able to give anyone, and I decided she wasn't a Death Eater drinking Polyjuice Potion or under the Imperius Curse after all. So much for that.

"Yes, Granger. We've checked for tampering in all the possible ways but it only turned out to be correct. I know that Draco Malfoy being Head Boy may come as a shock, to you of most people, Granger, because, well, you have been elected Head Girl, Granger."

This is one of those times you can't _not_ swear, however strong your anti-expletives policy is. And swear I did.

McGonagall looked at me all funny and said "You do understand the implications, I presume, Miss Granger?"

Of course I understood. I wouldn't have cussed - in public - if that weren't the case. I have read Hogwarts, A History, and great Merlin, I had never despised that book more than I did now. But, who knew, maybe they'd change traditions just this year? I mean, considering the "Head Boy" happened to be a murderer of sorts? Still, if the tradition in question was to be implemented, I had a problem.

"Yes." I replied. "It is tradition for Hogwarts Headboy and Headgirl - "

" - to share the same living quarters. Yes."

Yeah. That.

"Which is why I was so, erm, worried, Professor. Isn't there any way at all that I could be, er, excused from this tradition at all, Professor? Can't I live in Gryffindor Tower?" I nearly begged.

"Well, it is down in the rule book, but I'm very sure that in this case, we can make an exception. I'm sure there is nothing wrong with your request, especially if one is stuck with someone of Mr. Malfoy's caliber. And we certainly cannot take the risk with the safety of one of our students by leaving you alone with him like this; Dumbledore may trust him, but I certainly do not. But, you know, Ms. Granger, the personal quarters of the Heads is not just a living area, it is your own private space to relax and get away from the not-so-private areas of the castle, and discuss issues which, as your duties as heads, need to be discussed. It's more like a live-in office. However, in this case, permission granted; it is the least I can do."

WHEW. I just realized I hadn't been breathing through the whole of McGonagall's speech. That was how desperate to get away from Malfoy I was. Anyone would be.

"Oh, _thank you,_ Professor!" I breathlessly yelled, which probably freaked her out.

"Oh, but, Ms. Granger, I am sorry to inform you that as Head Girl, your duties will significantly increase compared to those of your predecessors. As of a recent meeting among the Governors of the school, the school management has been pressured into taking new initiatives towards house unity. And the Heads will obviously play a large role in this; in our case, the Head Girl, seeing as our Head Boy isn't very likely to turn up."

Well, my life sucks. I mean, I normally do not support statements like that because they're just so masochistic, but in my case it literally is true. My mind isn't even working. What if Malfoy actually has the audacity to turn up? What if I actually do have to end up working in close proximity with him? He'd drive me up the wall, or even kill me! Oh, dear! Now, I've got to get him back first! I could screw up something huge and blame it on him, or put itching powder into his morning juice so that he itches in the _inside_, or … wait, no. I'm getting ahead of myself. I should concentrate on the smooth running of Hogwarts and, more importantly, destroying Voldemort. Odds are Malfoy is never going to turn up. At least, not this soon.

"Well, that's about it, then, Potter, Weasley, Granger." Professor McGonagall nodded at the three of us and rose to leave.

"Professor, what new initiatives are the Board of Governors suggesting?" I asked her as she made her way to the front door of The Burrow.

"They … have not exactly been solidified as yet. I might be able to tell you once you return to Hogwarts, Miss Granger."

Seriously.

"Alright, then, Professor."

And with that, we watched her turn on the spot and subsequently vanish. It was just that God Damn simple for her.

Then we slowly made our way up to Ron's bedroom, wondering what could possibly be worse.

"So, basically," Harry said, breaking the long silence, and beginning to pick points off his fingers, "We're in the middle of a war, we're the only ones that can end it and destroy a psychopath, we're being forced to attend _school_, Hermione's Head Girl and now we've got even _more_ duties on our heads, she's got to work with Malfoy on that, if he turns up, and the school board has dreamed up some unknown shitfuck way to unite the houses."

He looked at us expectantly.

"Which means," Ron said in a goofy American accent, "that we're _screwed_."

"Totally." Harry replied in the same accent.

Oh, boys. You're so innocent with your cute little obsession with American accent and your hatred for Death Eaters. It's just so simple for you isn't it? You've just got to fight and kill a Death Eater.

_I_, however, have to live with one.

_If_ he ever turns up. Which, you know, considering my luck …


	6. Chapter 6

**Hermione**

Well, the day came, obviously. The day we went back to Hogwarts for the last time.

King's Cross Station was very crowded and noisy, as usual, on 1st September, 1997. I wonder why it's always crowded when we're there. Is it because there are just so many wizards in addition to the regular muggles, or is it just that we're always late? The latter was probably why we were rushing to Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. All nine of us: Moody, Mr And Mrs Weasley, Harry, Ron, Ginny, two other members of the order and myself. The Ministry hadn't appointed any Aurors to protect Harry this time. Obviously.

I seethed internally at the thought of the Ministry. I really don't understand why the Ministry has to be so _vain_. When the public was with Harry, it was all _Oh, Harry Potter this and Harry Potter that_. And when he just found something life-altering, _BAM_, they dropped him like a hot potato. Sometimes, they just gross me out. I'll probably go into wizard law after Hogwarts. That way, I can petition to curb all the nonsense and politics that goes on around at the Ministry and promote Elf rights at the same time! I mean, if we survive this War, the coming years in the Ministry of Magic are going to be an entirely new era, what with people like Harry, Ron, Ginny, Neville, Luna and me added to those from the Order who are already part the Ministry. We could totally start a revolution!

Alright, I have this getting-ahead-of-myself disease, and it's a real bother when it just hits at random times and then I realise I'd been left far behind in situations such as these.

"_Hermione!_" Mrs. Weasley called, and I picked up my pace.

It's not that I'm too slow or that I'm too intellectual to run or anything, it's just that ... I think too much. There I said it. I'm not being vain or anything, but, yeah. I have to. I mean, Harry and Ron, though not the dullest Lumos Charms, aren't_ interested_ in knowing things. So, obviously, it becomes my duty to _know_ everything. Sometimes I think it's because I'm a girl.

Oh dear, what did I say? Getting-ahead-of-myself disease.

Finally, after about ten minutes of huffing, puffing and thoughtless thinking, we reached the barrier than separated Platforms 9 and 10.

"I'll go first." Mr. Weasley said, as we reached, "And then you three." He motioned towards Harry, Ron and I, "And the rest can come after."

Everyone solemnly nodded in agreement. What else were we to do? It seemed like it had hit everyone at once. We were going back to Hogwarts for the last time. A vulnerable Hogwarts. A Hogwarts without Dumbledore. I sighed. Because there was nothing else I _could_ do.

I watched as Mr Weasley disappeared through the barrier. Then, I followed him, emotionlessly, feeling Harry and Ron at either side of me. A second later, the two members of the Order materialised, followed gradually by the rest. Moody came through last, and we all turned to face the scarlet, shining engine unanimously. A whirlwind of emotions ran through me, and I was sure Harry and Ron were feeling the same way. They were looking at The Hogwarts Express for the last time, and for the first time, we were feeling so miserable and helpless seeing it.

There followed fifteen long minutes of tearful goodbyes and other emotional gestures, which are just best left un-described. The last time you see your family, or people as good as your family, before, say, going to fight a war, is just ... too overwhelming to reminisce.

We loaded our luggage onto the train and hopped on. Harry, Ron, Ginny and I stood at the entrance as the train began to move. Poor Mrs Weasley, as though she'd _just_ realised we were leaving, dropped her handkerchief and began to move along with it.

"I want all four of you," she began yelling, over the roar of the engine, "To stay out of trouble!" And then broke into a run. "And ... Be good!" And then she started getting out of breath. "This is your ... NEWT year and ... you three better work hard! Stop interfering ... and concentrate ... on school! And ... I love you kids!"

The train picked up full speed and, within a few seconds, she was out of sight. Ginny rolled her eyes.

"Mum, I tell you." She said.

But I was already silently crying into Ron's jumper. I felt him put an arm around me and then Harry pull us both into a hug.

"Are you guys serious?" Ginny cried incredulously, "What is _wrong_ with all of you?"

But Ginny didn't understand. How could she? She never knew. She didn't know what the three of us were going back to Hogwarts for. She didn't know the mission that had been entrusted to us or what it entailed. She didn't know that this was probably the last time we were seeing the people we loved. She didn't know, and never would, that a month ago we signed up for a shortcut to death.

I remembered all that Mr and Mrs Weasley had done for me. I wish I had done something in return, or said something at the very least. It felt like I had left things off so abruptly. There was more I should have done and said. And my parents. Oh, God, _my parents_. That thought led to a fresh series of sobs.

Ginny sighed in defeat.

"Alright, do you guys want to go find a compartment at all? I don't mind standing here the entire ride, maybe even jump off for a bit of fun." She said sarcastically.

We looked up and smiled at her jab. It _was_ awfully dangerous out here. Fancy not realising that. I guess we were so used to fatal endeavours, that standing on the edge of the doorway of a speeding train, did absolutely nothing to arouse the natural human instinct of self-preservation.

We made our way up the corridor in the train. Heads turned as we passed and whispers rang subsequent. Obviously. I gritted my teeth. These people just me _so mad_.

"Oh, why do they pretend like they've not been seeing Harry _every single day_ for the past _six_ years? You'd think people had better things to gossip about. It's just so _sick_ the way they treat you, like – " I began crossly, pushing past a girl and a boy with dark brown hair.

"I'm used to it, Hermione. It really isn't – " Harry started to say, but was interrupted by a shrill cry of –

"_Hermione?_"

We all turned around to find the speaker – the very same girl I had just pushed past. She was familiar somehow. I _knew_ I knew her from somewhere. From another era. From a dream within a dream.

"Hermione _Granger_? Is that really _you?_ You're a _witch?_" she was squealing.

"I – I'm sorry, I don't think I recognise – " I started.

"_Minny! _It's _me_!" She screamed, grabbing on to my wrists and shaking them. Er, excited much? This was awkward, what with the entire train staring at us. Who _was_ she, anyway? And why was she acting like it was the end of the God-damn _world?_

A second passed. Then two. Then three. I blinked. _Minny._ Minny ... _Minny?_

Oh. My. God.

_Oh, my God_

_Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod!_

And I let out a scream that would have frightened a banshee. And, if there was a soul who wasn't watching our display before, they were now.

I screamed and jumped and hugged her for all I was worth.

"Eeeeeevaaaa!" I cried.

"_Yes!_"

"Oh, my God!"

"I know!"

"I can't believe this!"

"_I know!_"

And then we began screaming and hugging and jumping all over again.

We finally released each other to catch our breath. _Eva_ – _Evanna Wagner_ – was here. Here. This was so great. Oh, my God. That was my first reaction.

_Oh, my God! No!_ That was my second though. No, she couldn't be here. Because, if she was here, she was going to be in danger from our mission. No, she was one more person who had a chance of getting in the way. And Voldemort would swat away anyone who got in the way. We saw that with Cedric.

And also, if Evanna, was here, it was more or less inevitable that she was with –

"Why, hello, Hermione." Said a smooth male voice from behind me, and even after seven years I recognised that beautifully polished accent, the only one I knew as sophisticated as Evanna's and my own. And maybe Malfoy's. But never mind that man-whore.

As if bloody _Voldemort _wasn't enough for this year.


	7. Chapter 7

**I'm really sorry that I usually update after such long gaps. I'm really trying to work on finishing the story as soon as I can, but more ideas and sub plots just keep coming to me looking better than the previous one each time. But, I solemnly swear to make ten times the effort with this story from now on. Hopefully, there will be an update every few days and it will be complete within a few months!**

**Thanks for bearing with me (:**

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**Hermione**

I stood rooted to that spot for what seemed like forever, in an awkward half-hug with Eva and a look of intense horror on my face, staring at Eva's brother – twin brother – Evan Wagner. And it was _weird_ how alike they looked without Eva ever looking like a boy or Evan like a girl; the same thick, wavy brown hair, blue-grey eyes, sharp features. Oh, they were both very beautiful people to look at, like they had just stepped off the cover of a Muggle fashion magazine. But this wasn't why I was staring at them so avidly now.

To be totally honest, first, the Wagners never struck me as the wizarding type at all, even all those years ago in my purely Muggle days. And, second, did the universe hate me _so_ much so that the second worst part about my Muggle life had come to light in this _particular_ year of my magical one? And, that too, clad in what looked like top of the line Muggle fashion.

Evan tapped my shoulder. "Hermione, are you alright?"

I came to my senses. Slowly, I detangled myself from Eva and straightened up.

"I'm fine, Evan, thanks, just a bit, erm, nonplussed." I said with a nervous chuckle, as I thrust my hand forward. He shook it.

"So, you both are ... magic?" I asked, not being able to contain my excitement, despite the shock and mortification of having to face Evan.

"Yes, Hermione. And, oh, you are, _too_! This is just so wonderful! Are Dr and Mrs Granger magic as well?" Evanna cried.

"Oh, no." I replied. "I'm muggle-born."

"Oh, Hermione, that is such brilliant news. I'm too thrilled!" she said in glee. And, surprisingly, looked

Someone cleared their throat behind us. Ginny! I'd completely forgotten about my friends!

"Who are your friends, Hermione?" Ron asked, as blunt as ever.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, you guys. Eva, Evan, these are my friends, Ron Weasley, Ginny Weasley and Harry Potter." I noticed their eyebrows go way up at the mention of Harry's name. But they were entitled to gawk. I mean, they had spent half of their magical lives, God knows where, away from the heart of the wizarding community, which probably made it justified for them to be curious about Harry. And all the things we've done. Oh, what would Eva think if she comes to know.

"Harry, Ron, Ginny, meet Evanna and Evan Wagner. They were my neighbours, until they moved away seven years ago. So ..."

There was a round of awkward 'Hi's and 'Nice to meet you's and 'How do you do's, after which we realised we'd been blocking the corridor the entire time, and the only reason anybody hadn't been saying anything was because Harry Potter was part of the hold up. Honestly. If I was Harry, I'd have Levicorpus-ed all these gawkers and left them hanging the whole train ride.

"So, you guys are muggle-born." I told Eva conversationally as we made our way up to an empty compartment.

"God, no, we're totally pureblood. I mean, you know, not pure, I'm sure there's some non-magical blood in our family. But we're not purists, like some ... people." She said. Oh, she did not know what purists were. Insert Voldemort and the Malfoys here.

"So, Mr. And Mrs. Wagner are also witch and wizard?" I asked.

"Yes?"

Ok, I was thoroughly confused. This only meant that Eva was ... an aristocrat or something in the wizarding world, which, of course, was utterly ridiculous.

"So why did you never attend Hogwarts? And why on Earth were you living in a Muggle neighbourhood all those years?"

"Oh. Because that was our cover." She said, which obviously made me more confused than ever. "Dad is an Unspeakable at the Ministry," she explained, "And he's got a lot of confidential information that they can't afford to lose. So the Ministry make us move to areas that we're not likely to live in or ones with severe protection. It also means we can't be left in public much. Hence, not attending Hogwarts."

"King of the sodding Unspeakables, you mean." Evan said darkly from behind us.

"Dad's the Head of the Department of Mysteries," she whispered. "Evan's so bitter about it all the time. Not having an active social life puts a damper on things, you know. He was so excited about the new decree by the Ministry, he was practically skipping for a month."

"Christ, Eva." Evan said from behind us.

I could practically hear his eyes rolling, too, but I chose to ignore that.

"Well, you guys won't have a single boring day around here." I said. They, obviously, didn't get the sarcasm.

"I'm sure!" Eva cried, "So many people to meet and books to read and the whole of Hogwarts to discover."

"And don't forget the Weasleys and Harry and the rest of our outrageous friends." I muttered.

"Yeah, Hermione, so what's the deal with Potter? Seems like you're quite close friends." Evan muttered from behind me.

"Harry has a lot of friends." I said dismissively. Maybe because I hate everyone's obsession with Harry. Or maybe because after almost eight years, I still hate Evan. God, he's such a prick.

"So, you're saying that he's somewhat of a celebrity around here, just like the Prophet does?" he pressed on.

I refrained from gritting my teeth.

"No, Evan. Harry's your average, everyday person with no extraordinary divine powers. He's goofy, he messes up at Potions and gets into detention like any other student. He's also nice and kind and brave and goes out of his way to help people most of the time and one of my best friends. And he is not a Potions experiment." I said, irritatedly.

"So, you have a crush on him." Evan stated all matter-of-factly.

I gasped the same time Eva said "Evan!" angrily and hit him across his arm.

"No, Evan, Harry is like my brother." I replied tersely, and followed Ron, Ginny and Harry into the compartment without another word.

"Interesting." was all Evan bothered to say after that.

About five minutes later, we were all huddled together in a compartment and, to my surprise, my friends and the Wagners started getting along pretty well. They told us about life in seclusion and we tried to fill them in on Hogwarts.

A half hour later, the time came for me to go for the Prefects meeting in the Prefects compartment, of course. Being Head Girl, I had to arrive early and give the rest of the prefects an initiation talk of sorts, which, you know, yippee. Note the dripping sarcasm. Sometimes I think I come across as a person with too flat a personality. Too narrow a mind, even, dare I say it. Alright, that was it. I was going to let loose. Get relaxed. Ron had commented on my oh-so-boring nature in First Year, Snape in Third Year and almost everyone had been majorly irked with me because of my SPEW campaigns. Uptight, they called me. This year, I'll show them.

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**So, this Chapter was kind of short, but the next one is going to be way better and have a bit more drama excitement in it!**


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